


Courting a Hobbitling

by karategal



Series: A Hobbit in the Lonely Mountain [13]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, F/M, Good Uncle Thorin, Hobbit Culture & Customs, M/M, Thorin's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karategal/pseuds/karategal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bilbo finally returns to the Lonely Mountain after two years away, Thorin realizes that not only does he have to figure out how to properly court his fussy and handsome hobbit, but also said hobbit's young nephew. It's far more nerve-wracking than he'd anticipated, even if the child is a complete delight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting a Hobbitling

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or actors from _The Hobbit_. Everything belongs to the great and powerful J.R.R. Tolkien.

After escorting Bilbo and Frodo Baggins to their rooms, Thorin rushed off to his own in a panic. As expected, Dwalin was already there, seated in front of the fireplace with a lit pipe and tankard of mead. The other dwarf gestured towards the seat across from him, both of the same items sitting on a nearby table. It was sometimes creepy how well Thorin's best friend knew him.

"He has a child, Dwalin."

"Aye, and a right fine one young Frodo is," said the guardsman. "Spent dinner with the lad myself. A little on the shy side, but very fine child."

"What do I do?"

Dwalin snorted and said, "You've raised two lads yourself. What did you do for them?"

"I assisted my sister in raising two _dwarves_ ," snapped Thorin as he paced, "Not a hobbit. The differences are enormous."

"There's little difference, I can assure you."

"And that's where you're wrong, my friend. Have you seen the child's size?

"Of course, I have," said Dwalin. "He's smaller than my forearm and weighs little more than a short blade. I doubt you'll find any child smaller than Frodo outside the Shire itself."

"I could break him, and then Bilbo would never forgive me."

Thorin was tugging on his braids at this point, more nervous than Dwalin had seen him since learning of Fíli and Kíli's conditions after the Battle of the Five Armies. It was disconcerting to watch and Dwalin knew it'd take some careful words to persuade Thorin away from his present thoughts. Unfortunately, Dwalin wasn't the best with careful words, so a blunt opinion was what Thorin would get instead.

"Button up and sit down, you fool. All this pacing is giving me a headache. And you won't break him."

"He's so tiny!"

To illustrate his point, Thorin spread his arms barely two feet apart, hands twitching as he contemplated just how easy it would be to hurt someone so small. Handling Fíli and Kíli as babes had been difficult at first, both of them seeming so tiny in Thorin's orc-killing arms. His sister had thought it was hilarious, especially since her older brother was shaking in his boots the first time they'd been placed in his arms.

And now there was Frodo, a child no bigger than Fíli and Kíli had been on the very day of their births. Thorin didn't even know it was possible for a child to look so tiny and fragile. He could scarcely imagine how small their newborns were!

"He's also not a piece of glass," said Dwalin. "You've seen how resilient Bilbo is. Not as sturdy as a dwarf, of course, but he's far from easily broken."

" _I_ almost broke him."

"Our hobbit has already forgiven you, Thorin. I heard the words myself just before his departure."

"What if the lad doesn't like me?"

Dwalin had to literally fight the urge to roll his eyes, wondering for the umpteenth time how his best friend and King could be so thick-headed. He understood that Thorin was madly in love with their hobbit; it had been obvious for years now. By all accounts, Dwalin wasn't the most perceptive dwarf—that innate ability fell to his older brother—but he was attuned to Thorin's moods and knew his King had started falling for Bilbo as early as their visit to Beorn's home, even if the dunce hadn't yet figured it out for himself.

"The lad spoke to you, didn't he? Asked questions?"

"Aye."

"Then you've already gotten further than the rest of us, save Fíli and Kíli. He's a quiet child, as Bilbo has pointed out several times. And if you truly want to court our hobbit, then I'd suggest you treat that child like a rare gemstone."

"What are you saying?"

"If you want to court the hobbit," said Dwalin in a slow voice, "Then court the hobbitling first. You need to earn Bilbo's trust back, if you want this to work."

"That... actually makes a great deal of sense."

Dwalin snorted and said, "I do have some brains to go along with my brawn. When the situation calls for it."

"I beg to differ."

"Shut up, you damned elf-fucker."

After that, the two of them sat in a companionable silence, puffing away on their pipes and discussing guard rotations on the lower levels. However, Dwalin could tell something was still niggling at Thorin's mind, likely his predicament with the hobbit.

"Just spit out what's bothering you already. I can hear your thoughts from here."

"I want the boy to like me."

"Then talk to him. Play with him. Tell him stories. Isn't that what you did with Fíli and Kíli?"

"Frodo is completely different."

"How so?"

Thorin gave him a sarcastic look. "Has your memory been failing? Fíli and Kíli were absolute terrors at his age, even if they had their sweet moments. Dís and I strongly considered throwing them down a mine shaft on more than one occasion."

"Aye, I do remember Kíli putting a bucketful of worms in my boots once. Evil child, that one."

"He was on dish duty for a week."

They sat there for a moment, remembering all the horrible shit Fíli and Kíli had gotten up to over the years. Anything from climbing trees to harassing envoys to dyeing their mother's skirts, Thorin's boys were willing to do it. Thankfully, becoming the physical heirs to Erebor had straightened them out a good bit, along with the whole almost dying thing.

"You do realize that those lads are planning something, right?" 

"I can hardly think of a time when they weren't scheming," said Thorin. "It's their father's fault. That dwarf was a menace."

"You're starting to sound like your sister."

"Don't insult me, Dwalin. And my dearest nephews would not have given Bilbo the Blue Rooms unless they were planning something." Thorin sighed at the fireplace. "The last thing I need right now is their overzealous help. I truly hope they won't be too terrible of an influence on the child."

"For some reason," drawled Dwalin, "I don't think Frodo will be quite the handful those boys were."

At least they didn't have to worry about Bilbo's acceptance of the princes. It was clear to anyone with eyes that Bilbo adored Fíli and Kíli, especially since they were the main reason he'd agreed to stay in Erebor after the battle. The hobbit had obviously still been wary of banishment and further retribution for stealing the Arkenstone, but seeing Fíli and Kíli's mangled bodies had been enough to convince Bilbo to remain and personally oversee their initial recovery.

Bilbo's loyalty and devotion to Erebor's princes was unquestionable.

"He's like a little angel."

"Fucking hell, you gonna wax poetic about this hobbit, too? Write a few sonnets for him? Personally, I think toys and food would be a better option with this one."

And by Mahâl, had Dwalin ever heard some sappy musings from Thorin over the past few months. Dwarves were known for loving fiercely, but it would be an understatement to say that his friend had fallen _hard_ for their pint-sized burglar. Thorin was plummeting to earth faster than Smaug had been shot out of the sky. And once everything was out in the open, Dwalin had no doubt Glóin and Thorin would be arguing over whose spouse was more beautiful and worthy of worship.

What a migraine...

"That's it! Toys! I'll commission Bifur to make him some toys as a welcome gift."

Practically thrumming with excitement, Thorin reached over to grab a pen and paper, jotting down every toy design he thought Frodo might enjoy. It turned out to be a fairly long list, especially after Dwalin gave his own suggestions. Decapitated orcs were a perfect gift, if you asked him.

"Do you think Bilbo would approve of these?"

"How the hell would I know? Our hobbit's fussy, but I doubt he'd deny the lad his favorite food or toys."

"Fourteen should be enough, right?"

Dwalin nodded, seeing nothing wrong with the list. Aside from Gimli, there were no children among the Company, and Frodo was far younger than Glóin's son. It would do them all some good to spoil and dote on the little hobbit.

"I hope it's enough."

"Maybe some books would help? Our burglar likes books, so I'd think the lad would, too."

Thorin nodded and grabbed another piece of paper, writing down any tale he thought would interest either of the hobbits. After the battle, Bilbo had showed a great deal of interest in Erebor's library but hadn't been able to visit it. Even with excavation crews working around the clock, it had taken over eight months to clear away all the rubble that had fallen in front of the library's entrance.

Bilbo would love to see it.

"I'll have to consult Ori. He'd know which books would be best for a child Frodo's age."

This was a side of Thorin few people saw, and by those few people, Dwalin meant Dís, Balin, and himself. To the outside world, Thorin was stoic and solemn with the usual amount of dwarven short-temper, which meant he was everything expected of a successful king. But behind closed doors and around his closest family and confidantes, Thorin showed a much softer side of himself, smiling at his nephews' antics and paying close attention to the needs of his Company. He didn't have a lot of free time with the kingship, but their leader tried to attend communal meals whenever he could, especially since the Company had started to gradually drift apart over the past few months.

"He seems to be a very curious and intellectual child," said Thorin. "I'll have to plan lessons for him as well."

"Khuzdul?"

The King paused for a moment, fingers running up and down his beard. Dwalin knew this was a sensitive subject, although he personally thought it was a non-issue at this point. Dwarves almost never married outside their race, but Bilbo was a rare exception to all of their laws and customs; he'd done more for dwarves than any other person in recent memory, and that earned him special rights and allowances, in Dwalin's opinion.

"I will have to speak with Balin about it."

"He already agreed."

Thorin raised an eyebrow at this, more than a little suspicious of Dwalin's admission.

"I spoke to him about it after you left earlier," said Dwalin. "He was a little reluctant at first, but agreed it'd be foolish for a Consort of Erebor not to understand the language of his subjects."

As expected, Thorin flushed when he heard the word Consort attached to their burglar. And there was that goofy smile, too.

"You're such a lovesick fool. It's sickening."

"Shut up or I'll have you thrown in the dungeons. Teach you a lesson for being such an arsehole."

"You just don't like hearing the truth."

Thorin looked down at his lists again, checking and rechecking everything Frodo may enjoy, ranging from lessons to toys to room decorations. He'd have to make sure their kitchens were stocked with the child's favorite foods, too.

"I'll just be glad when you finally confess to the hobbit," said Dwalin. He picked at his cracked fingernails. "Watching you moon over him for two years has been more than a little trying for all of us."

"You exaggerate. It hasn't been two years."

"Okay, two and a half."

When Dwalin didn't receive a response, he just turned around and gave his friend a knowing smirk. The hobbit had been on Thorin's mind after the Carrock, something the sons of Fundin had picked up on by the time they'd arrived at Beorn's home. Thorin wasn't nearly as subtle as he thought, or at least not to people who'd known him for nearly two centuries.

"Do you really think he'll accept? My courtship, that is?"

"Our hobbit has cared for you just as long as you've cared for him," said Dwalin. "Of that, I can assure you."

"But after what I did to him..."

Dwalin pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled, "Mahâl help me, but I'm friends with a thick-headed idiot. And of all dwarves to come to for advice, I'm probably the least capable of doing this."

Emotions had never been Dwalin's forte; he always preferred actions over words.

"The hobbit said he forgave you, correct?"

His friend nodded.

"Then stop second-guessing him. Bilbo has never been known to withhold his opinions or grievances, as you very well know. If he hadn't forgiven you, then he would not have said those words."

"But what if it's too soon?"

"I'm not saying to confess everything to the lad all at once, but gradually ease into it." At this point, Dwalin wanted to bang his head against a wall. "Give him a proper dwarven courtship. Craft your own beads for him."

"Aye, a proper courtship. Bilbo deserves nothing less than that."

Dwalin sighed. "Being your friend is exhausting sometimes. And I can see what Dís means about emotional constipation."

"You have no room to talk, or have you forgotten about a certain thief?"

Not even wanting to touch that particular conversation, Dwalin reached over to reread the list and added three more toys to it. Frodo would likely enjoy some battle goat figurines to pair with his dwarves; they'd make for some realistic make-believe battles, especially if the orc toys were involved. Beorn would make a good addition, too.

And then there were two knocks on the door, a guard announcing himself before entering. The brunet was one of Dwalin's apprentices, loyal to a fault and assigned to guard the Company's two most vulnerable members: Bilbo and his nephew.

Thorin didn't even try to hide his worry. "What is it? Has something happened?"

"You told me to inform you of anything worrisome I may have heard in Master Baggins' chambers," said Vorin. "I heard shouts from the child, perhaps a nightmare, and believed that you may wish to investigate. Lenn is still standing guard outside the door, but we don't have a key to gain entrance."

Thorin cursed and dug into his back pocket, pulling out a key that he should've given to the guards before leaving.

It took less than a minute for Thorin and Dwalin to arrive at Bilbo's door, Fíli and Kíli coming around the corner in their nightclothes not a moment later. He didn't stop to ponder who'd informed them of the incident, but both princes were clearly worried. The Durins were the first through Bilbo's doors, weapons drawn and ready for battle; meanwhile, Dwalin hung back and tried not to laugh at Bilbo's scolding voice. It was a simple nightmare, after all.

"Put those confounded things down!"

"The guards summoned us," said Thorin. "What's happened?"

"C'mon, Frodo, it's just a bad dream, darling," repeated Bilbo over and over again to his trembling nephew. "He's just had a bad dream. Frodo, sweetie, Uncle Bilbo's right here, it's alright. Yes, that's it, look at me. See, it was just a bad, bad dream, nothing's going to hurt you."

It didn't surprise Dwalin that the boys were quick to respond, their voices telling the child that he was safe and Uncle Thorin would protect him. He had a feeling Fíli and Kíli were scheming in a similar fashion to Thorin and himself, which was only reinforced by their comments encouraging their uncle to stay for the night.

It seemed to be working, too.

"You see our uncle's sword," said Fíli, pulling Thorin's weapon partially out of its sheath. "It's called Orcrist because of its ability to cleave straight through a whole band of orcs without need of a second stroke. No orc, goblin, or man would stand a chance against Uncle Thorin's blade, including any who'd try to harm you."

Frodo sniffled. "Really?"

"Truly," said Thorin.

Dwalin attempted to hold in yet another laugh. Their King could be quite eloquent when he actually put his mind to it, spouting grand speeches and rallying people to an impossible cause. Apparently, this also applied to coaxing tiny hobbits out of their nightmares, describing in detail how he'd protect both the lad and his fussy uncle from harm.

He heard Bilbo ask, "What're they doing?"

"We're guarding Frodo," said Fíli, as if the answer was obvious. The prince was likely making himself comfortable on some overstuffed furniture. "We can't let any of those vile nightmares get near our favorite lil' hobbit babe."

"Yeah, we'll be over here guarding the doors while Uncle Thorin guards the bed," declared Kíli. "Don't worry, Frodo, we're a skilled bunch at this kinda stuff."

"He's gonna stay?" Frodo whispered.

"I, ugh…"

Dwalin could just imagine his friend's face, bright red under his beard and as constipated as a bullfrog. The King's plan was moving faster than he'd anticipated and he obviously didn't know what to do about it. Unfortunately for him, Dwalin was feeling more than a little tired of emotional issues by now, so Thorin was on his own for the remainder of the night.

"Well, I'll just… be right down here. In case of nightmares or a sudden horde of… orcs."

"Oh, Mahâl," giggled Kíli from somewhere across the room. "I think I busted a lung…or, or my liver, oh, my liver!"

"Shut up, you two brats!"

From the sounds of it, their short-tempered King had grabbed a nearby… something and hurled it at his snickering nephews. It must have been Fíli who was the target because Dwalin would recognize that yelp anywhere. It must have been a good hit too since he could hear Erebor's heir fall to the floor with a loud thud.

"No respect at all."

"Well, I don't think I'm needed anymore," said Dwalin to the guards. "It appears that our princes and King will be staying for the night. Resume your positions and do try to keep gossip to yourselves."

Both guards nodded vigorously at the sight of their captain's threatening grin. Worked like a charm every time.

"Good lads."

With list in hand, Dwalin headed for his bedchambers and decided he'd pay a quick visit to Bifur in the morning. The toymaker would be more than happy to put his skill to work for their King and burglar.

"I always have to do all the dirty work around here."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm debating whether to add another chapter to this or not. And yes, this is basically a portion of _An Unexpected Addition_ told from Thorin's lovesick perspective. Dwalin's kinda popped in there, too.


End file.
